


Nightmares

by Ljparis



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: F/M, Nightmares, Non-Explicit, Post-The Dark Knight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 08:49:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10356687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ljparis/pseuds/Ljparis
Summary: It is ten years later, and the dreams still haunt her. In her dreams though, he dies. They all die.This time, when she wakes up, she’s in a strange bed. She wakes with a jerk, a cold sweat, and a gasp on her breath. Another body is beside her, a bare back, strong shoulders, a jagged scar visible just under the rib cage.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written shortly after seeing The Dark Knight when the idea wouldn't get out of my head. Inspired from one scene and my annoyance with the credits. 
> 
> Slight Warning: References to Two-Face kidnapping Jim Gordon's wife and children. References to being shot. References to be worried about death & dying.

She had seen him get shot. She heard the shot ring off at the same time she watched him stumble backwards and fall into the shadows. Then her mother covered her face with a sweating hand and she only heard everything else: Dent’s threats, her father’s assurance everything would be all right, screaming. Her mother shoved her to the ground.

It is ten years later, and the dreams still haunt her. In her dreams though, he dies. They all die. They all die except for her and she’s standing alone in the middle of her dead brother, her dead father, her dead mother, Harvey Dent, and—and him. She stands over Batman. His armor is sticky, wet, and blood pools around him. She’s sobbing and shaking. No one is breathing. She isn’t even sure she’s breathing.

When she reaches to pull off his cowl, she wakes up.

This time, when she wakes up, she’s in a strange bed. She wakes with a jerk, a cold sweat, and a gasp on her breath. Another body is beside her, a bare back, strong shoulders, a jagged scar visible just under the rib cage.

Barbara sits up and swings her legs off the bed. She uses his dress shirt, which smells of his cologne, her perfume, and sweat, and covers herself. The hem falls to her mid-thigh. She is sticky between her legs and sore. She walks to the window that takes up the three sides of the room and, if they weren’t on the top floor of the tallest building in Gotham, would have afforded no privacy.

She shivers, her mind still back on her dream. She had lived through it. At least, she’d lived through the reality of it, the seeing Batman get shot, her mother screaming, her dad assuring Jimmy everything would be all right. 

But nothing was all right. Nothing was ever right again. Not since that night. She knew Batman hadn’t killed those people. She knew it had been Dent. She knew he was bad, evil, had tried to kill her. But that wasn’t what she was supposed to believe.

Even after his death, she is still supposed to believe in Harvey Dent.

“Babs, come back to bed,” comes the sleepy drawl from behind her.

She turns. He has rolled onto his back and the silk sheet had slid to expose a hard stomach and one hipbone. She had felt his firmness the night before, as far as she could remember, but seeing it was different.

“On second thought, stay right there. You look amazing in my shirt.”

Barbara blushes.

“C’mere.”

She does as he asks, settling one knee onto the bed first then sitting. He sits up and reaches for the few buttons she had done up, slipping each one out slowly. He brushes his fingertips over the newly exposed skin.

She sighs and leans closer to him. “My father’s going to kill me.” He cups a breast. “Or you.” She moans. “Definitely you.”

He chuckles. “You’re a big girl, now, Babs.”

She shivers. 

He is looking at her intently, thumbing her breast in slow strokes with one hand and pushing his shirt off her shoulders with the other. He touches his mouth to her shoulder and down her collarbone.

Barbara reaches out for him, spreading her hands out on his chest. He looks and feels so good for someone his age. She lets her eyes slip shut as his lips touch the swell of her breast. She has never let a man touch her this way before. She has never wanted any too. No, that isn’t true. The man she wants to touch her like this is chased in the dark and wears a cowl to cover his face.

The thought makes her jump. She sees Batman falling into the darkness with her eyes closed. She opens them in time to see a dark-haired head dip lower down her chest, pressing her back against the soft bed.

He seems to notice and pulls back. “I was trying to get the nightmare out of your mind,” he whispered. “Do you want to talk about it?” His concern is almost genuine.

Barbara realizes her fingers are pushing tensely against his sides. “I—no, I’m sorry. It must have shaken me up pretty badly. I don’t—usually remember my nightmares.”

He looks at her like he doesn’t believe her. But he kisses her all the same, just a gentle pressure of his mouth against hers, a quick taste of his tongue against her lower lip.

She whimpers and stars to move her hands, slipping one over his stomach, intent on traveling lower when a patch of rough skin makes her jerk her mouth from his. She spreads her fingers over the rough indent of skin, a patch the size of a thumbprint or smaller. 

He sucks in his stomach and pushes away, holding himself off of her. “Babs…”

She looks at his face, at his strong jaw. There is a fading bruise under his right ear. And a cut on the side of his neck. She had seen the scar on his back, a bruise on his shoulder blade he’d claimed the night before was from polo. She freezes.

“Bruce,” she says, her voice trembling. She looks at him, meets his eyes and takes a deep breath. “How did you get this scar?”


End file.
